Darcy Lewis- Agent of SHIELD (NEW)
by OldSaintJohn
Summary: If you were to ask, people would tell you that Darcy Lewis was completely normal. Sure she was cynical, sarcastic, sometimes bitchy, and had an odd obsession with tasers, but other than that completely normal. Fem!Harry is Darcy Lewis. M for possible language and themes. NEW VERSION.
1. Prologue or All you need to know about D

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

AN – This is my first attempt at a fan fiction and is a Harry Potter/Thor. I'm planning on taking it through both the first Thor movie, and the first Avengers movie. It's a Fem!Harry is Darcy Lewis fic, and while no pairings are planned yet, if I do include one it will be a yuri pairing so if that's not your thing, don't read. As this is my first fan fic, any constructive criticism or advice is much appreciated. Hope you enjoy. It should also be noted that I'll likely go back and make small edits and additions to previous chapters, either to add substance, or simply because I realized there was something I missed.

Prologue: or All you need to know about Darcy Lewis.

If you were to ask someone what they could tell you about Darcy Lewis, the most common response would be "Who is Darcy Lewis?" Which would usually be followed by the rather more important question of "Who the hell are you; and how did you get in my house?" However, if you were to ask someone who knew Darcy Lewis, the response would be quite different. More often than not the first thing they would comment on would be her chest, either in awe ("You should see the tits on her!") or jealousy ("There is no way those things are real!") After you got through the people who could only comment on Darcy's chest however, you would start to learn something about the woman behind it, mostly things like how she's cynical, sarcastic, and at times, bitchy, and that she had a somewhat worrying love of her Taser. Above all, you would hear that Darcy Lewis; is normal. She isn't a genius, billionaire, playgirl, philanthropist, who flies around in a suit of armour fighting terrorists. She isn't a world travelling doctor with startling anger issues. She isn't a master marksman, capable of shooting the balls of a fly from fifty yards with a bow and arrow, nor is she a world class super assassin able to kill people with nothing more than three eggs, a whisk and a jar of pickles. She definitely isn't a super soldier from World War Two, who has spent the last 70 years frozen. She certainly isn't a Norse god/alien capable of turning the law of gravity into little more than a suggestion. Yes, according to anyone who knows her Darcy Lewis, is as normal as they come. Of course just because that's what everyone who knows her thinks, doesn't necessarily make it true. In point of fact, Darcy Lewis is not normal. Nor is her name actually Darcy Lewis. Her parents are not Jack and Miranda Lewis. Despite what people think she was not born on the twelfth of June, 1987, nor was she born in Charleston, West Virginia. In fact she wasn't even born in the United States of America, or for that matter, in this universe at all. No, Darcy Lewis wasn't normal at all.

Darcy Lewis, was born not as most believe, on the twelfth of June, 1987, but rather on the thirty-first of July 1980. She was not born in Charleston, West Virginia, but in a little place called Godric's Hollow, in England. Her parents were not named Jack and Miranda Lewis, but rather James and Lily Potter. Her name was not Darcy Lewis, it was Darcy Rose Potter. Most importantly, Darcy Lewis was NOT normal. Darcy Lewis was a witch.

Darcy Rose Potter's life began as most people's lives (whether magical or otherwise) do, with crying, screaming, and bright lights, and frankly it didn't get much better from there. Her first year or so of life was pretty much fine and normal; that is to say, as normal as a magical baby's first year of life ever is. She spent her time doing the usual magical baby things, sleeping, eating, pooping, making things float or change colour when she sneezed, in fact sometimes she did several of these things at once, usually while being held by someone, proving to her Godfather Sirius Black, that people who thought babies were cute, innocent, little bundles of joy, clearly had not spent much time with one. All in all, Darcy Rose Potter lived, for the first year or so an entirely average life, completely unaware that it was set to be ruined due the idiocy of a drunk seer, a meddling old man with the fashion sense of a chameleon tripping on acid, and an evil, dark lord with terrifying mummy issues, who frankly, was in serious need of a hobby. The downfall of Darcy Rose Potter's happy childhood began the way most clichéd fantasy tales do, with a prophecy.

* * *

 **A/N - Before going to far into this rewritten version, I thought I would quickly answer a question a few people asked in reviews, that being "Why is Darcy a lesbian?"**

 **The answer is simple, I had to think about who I could pair her with if I add a pairing. Of the Avengers and supporting cast, the options are; Clint (married), Tony (married), Pepper (married to Tony), Thor (with Jane), Bruce (Darcy and Bruce's personalities don't really work together in my opinion), Steve (same as with Bruce), Bucky/Winter Soldier (undeveloped character), Sam/Falcon (same as Bucky), Coulson (No), Fury (No), Loki (I know I can't write Loki in a relationship without ruining his character), and Quicksilver (honestly I just don't like him). That leaves Scarlet Witch (doubtful, as it takes too long for her too turn up), Maria Hill (maybe), and Black Widow (leaning towards her, seeing as Darcy and Widow have somewhat similar backstories from a certain perspective, both were raised by cruel guardians, both were essentially made child soldiers. Widow was raised to be an assassin, Darcy to be a martyr, both for causes that shouldn't have had anything to do with them.**


	2. Chapter 1: The Beginning or How not to r

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

Chapter 1: The Beginning or How not to React to a Prophecy

Professor Albus Dumbledore, Sybill Trelawney and Severus Snape walked into a pub. What resulted was arguably the least funny joke in the history of the universe. A joke that started when Sybill Trelawney, in a display of startling unprofessionalism, got so drunk she passed out midway through a job interview and started spouting nonsense, nonsense that turned out to be a prophecy.

The joke unfortunately continued, when in an incredible display of Slytherin cunning Severus Snape chose to eavesdrop on the aforementioned job interview, not through one of the doubtless myriad amount of spells invented for that very purpose, but rather through quite literally pressing his ear to the door, leaving him in plain view of anyone who so much as glanced his way, allowing him to over hear part of the prophecy before being noticed. The joke continued apace, when Professor Albus Dumbledore (apparently one of the wisest and most powerful wizards alive) decided not to do the smart thing and Obliviate Severus Snape of the knowledge that could lead to the defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, but to let him walk away scot free. No doubt he then returned to the school and gave an obscene amount of points to a random student starting his long future of poor decisions and making a mockery of the house cup.

The joke reached it's decidedly unfunny punchline when Severus Snape ran to his lord and saviour the Dark Lord Voldemort (who needless to say was probably in the process of torturing some small, fluffy animal) and told him the half of the Prophecy he had heard. Voldemort, being the intelligent, thoughtful Dark Lord he is, chose to act on the small amount of information he had leading to his temporary downfall, and the depressing childhood of Darcy Rose Potter.

Now, if you ever find yourself at a point in life where your future is the subject of a prophecy, there are three very important questions you need to ask yourself before you act on it. Sadly for Darcy Rose Potter, Voldermort did not any of these questions.

Firstly, do you have the entire prophecy? If your answer is yes, move on to the second point. If no, then what ever you do, do not act on the part of the prophecy you do have. If you act on a prophecy without knowing its entirety, you are almost certain to screw yourself over, and screw yourself over hard. Unfortunately for Darcy Rose Potter, Voldermort did not have the entire prophecy.

Secondly, is the prophecy precise? Prophecies are finicky things open to all manner of interpretation. So unless the prophecy quite literally says "[Your Name Here] of [Your Address Here], will kill [Your Enemies Name Here] of [Your Enemies Address Here], at [Specific Time and Date Here]" or something else equally literal, it's always best to assume the prophecy isn't referring to you. It is especially important to remember this when the prophecy uses such imprecise titles as "Dark Lord" and only gives you a time frame as open to interpretation as "born as the seventh month dies". Really, when you think about it, this is just incredibly unhelpful. It doesn't state which dark lord it refers to, and it's not exactly difficult to pick up the title, just kill a few people, gather a few followers and think up a dramatic alias, and boom you're a dark lord. After all, with the size of the world and the amount of people in it, there are bound to be a couple other aspiring dark lords running about. As far as the "seventh month dies" part, that's equally as unhelpful. The seventh month by what calendar? There are dozens of calendars still in use the world over and let's not even get started on the number of calendars that have died out over the years. Without specifying which calendar the prophecy refers to, any month could be the seventh month. Unfortunately for Darcy Rose Potter, the prophecy was not precise.

Thirdly, will acting on the prophecy aid you? Prophecies can predict a lot of things. They can predict a person's victory or defeat. Whether they will live or die. Whether that will make money or lose money. However, regardless of what a prophecy predicts, it will only occur if the prophecy is acted upon. After all, there are thousands and thousands of prophecies stored in the basement of the Ministry of Magic, yet of them only a scant few have actually come true. This is because a prophecy is not a set in stone, map to the future, but rather a vague guideline to a specific possibility of the future. When thinking of a prophecy it helps to the think of the old philosophical question "If a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?" Or in more precise terms "If a prophecy is made and no one is around to act on it, does it come true?" The answer to both questions is a resounding maybe. In the end a prophecy should only be acted upon if the predicted outcome is favourable for the person or persons involved in it.

Unfortunately for Darcy Rose Potter, Voldermort added yet another point to his list of terrible life choices (Choices that included, releasing a basilisk, making horcuxes, and getting involved in this whole dark lord business to begin with) by acting on an incomplete and imprecise prophecy.

On the thirty-first of October, 1981, the self styled Dark Lord Voldemort, acting on information from Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew, made his way to the Potter house in Godric's Hollow. There he killed James and Lily Potter, before turning his wand on Darcy Rose Potter. His attempt to kill her backfired however due to the protections set in place by Lily Potter, causing the destruction of his body, and the creation of a horcrux inside Darcy Rose Potter. As the Killing Curse backfired on Lord Voldemort, his last coherent thought, was that he really should have gone in to law, like his career advisor at Hogwarts suggested.

Several hours after Lord Voldemort's unannounced and rather rude visit to the Potter house, the wreckage was visited by Hagrid, groundskeeper and Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts, and by Sirius Black, godfather to the newly orphaned Darcy Rose Potter. In what would be the first of a great many terrible decisions made with regards to her care by both her legally and illegally appointed guardians, Sirius Black gave her to Hagrid to be taken to Dumbledore while he bravely ignored his duty to his goddaughter and went off in search of revenge against the traitor Peter Pettigrew, a course of action that led to Sirius Black spending twelve years in the prison of Azkaban, and to Peter Pettigrew spending twelve years as a rat belonging to the Weasley family (Darcy would later struggle to decide which was the worse fate).

Hagrid, having been given care of Darcy Rose Potter by Sirius Black, made what would come to be the second of a great many terrible decisions made with regards to her care by both her legally and illegally appointed guardians, in deciding the best way to deliver her to the care of Albus Dumbledore was through the an unsecured ride in Sirius Black's flying motorcycle. At night. In winter.

Upon arriving in Little Whinging, Hagrid met Dumbledore and handed little Darcy Rose Potter into his care. Dumbledore proceeded to make the third in a long list of terrible decisions made with regards to her care by both her legally and illegally appointed guardians, by choosing to leave her on the doorstep of number 4 Privet Drive. A house belonging to Darcy Rose Potter's uncle and aunt, Vernon and Petunia Dursley, as well as her cousin Dudley Dursley. It doesn't need to be said that he left her there in the middle of the night, in winter, a decision that can be thought of as nothing but an incredible act of neglect.

The next morning, Petunia Dursley would find young Darcy, and thus would begin a long and harsh childhood for Darcy. A childhood that would however, regardless of hardships, teach her many valuable lessons, that would help her survive the years to come.


	3. Chapter 2: Life Lessons or Why the Wizar

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

Chapter 2: Life Lessons or Why the Wizarding World needs Child Protective Services

For children, the formative years are meant to be a time of fun, laughter, happiness and learning. Children are meant to learn lessons from their parents that will help them survive the grown up world. These lessons are learned in many ways, they're learned from the hugs and kisses at night that teach children about love and caring and kindness. From parents telling their children to say please and thank you, so they learn all about manners and respect. They are taught in the chores given to children, so they can learn the value of hard work, and that money earned is sweeter than money given. All in all, these lessons are learned so that one day a child can become an adult, one that is independent, self-sufficient and capable of functioning in society. For Darcy Rose Potter, the lessons she learned in her formative years were very different from what a normal child learns.

The first important lessons Darcy Rose Potter learned were the value of research and silence. Despite being the first lessons learned, they were also some of the most difficult to learn. Darcy, like most children, was curious. Incredibly so, and like most children, the way she expressed her curiosity was through questions. However, unlike most children, who have a patient loving parental figure who is kind enough to answer their seemingly endless questions, Darcy only had her Uncle Vernon, and Aunt Petunia, who shared the same two go to answers for every question she asked, either "You will only speak when spoken to!" or "Go to your cupboard!" Needless to say, for a small child curious about the world she lives in, these are not adequate answers, so Darcy kept asking her questions "What is that?", "What does this do?", "Where are we going?" and so on and so forth. The lesson on the value of silence only truly sank in when shortly after Darcy turned four, she innocently asked her Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia "Where are my parents?" Instead of receiving one of the usual go to answers from them however, she instead received a glare from her aunt and her first taste of corporal punishment from her uncle. After that day, her endless questions ceased. Darcy learned to keep silent and that if she wanted the answers to her questions she would need to find them herself.

The next lesson Darcy learned, was the importance of rationing and why stealing wasn't always a crime.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley were, in their own opinions, hardworking and upstanding members of society. They had earned their place in the world and felt others should as well. While not an unreasonable viewpoint, it was unreasonable that they felt this should apply to there now five year old niece Darcy Rose Potter. After all, they never asked to be saddled with her, so why should they spend their hard earned money feeding her three meals a day (she was a small child and could surely get by on just breakfast) or buying her new clothes (Dudley's old clothes were after all, still in excellent condition, thank you very much). In fact, they decided that she owed them. After all they put a roof over her head (as well as a set of stairs), food in her stomach (though not very much) and clothes on her back (clothes that would fit a small elephant). Thus they came to the decision to make her earn her keep. From that day on, Darcy was put in charge of the cooking, the cleaning, the yard work, the laundry and washing the cars. Now, needless to say all this extra work took its toll on poor little Darcy. All the energy she expended on her chores could not be sustained by the meagre amount she was fed, so she realized that she needed a new source of food. It was during one of the rare afternoons that she had free from her chores that Darcy decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood. On her walk, she came across the local corner store, owned by an old and rather blind man. Her stomach grumbling, Darcy made the snap decision to take advantage of the situation and sneakily help herself to some snacks from the store. It was on that day that she learned that old, blind men had difficulty noticing small, hungry children. That night lying in her cupboard, with a full stomach for the first time in what felt like years, Darcy resolved to return to the store and continue partaking in the old man's unknowing generosity. However, she soon learned that the days she could get away from her chores and go to the store were few and far between, so she learned to take more and to hide it in her cupboard. Thus, Darcy learned the value of rationing, and that what one man called a crime, another called salvation.

These lessons continued all throughout Darcy's childhood. She learned how to stay out of the way of her uncle and aunt so she didn't get hit. She learned how to hold herself back in school so she didn't upset her relatives by outperforming Dudley. She learned that the way her uncle and aunt treated her wasn't right and was in fact abuse. Most importantly, she learned that adults were not to be trusted or relied upon. This lesson was learned when she told one of her teachers about how her uncle and aunt treated her. The teacher, as she was meant to reported Darcy's claims to the police, however when the police came to the Dursley's house to ask them, a few fifty pound notes slipped from uncle Vernon to the investigating officer had the situation resolved rather unfavourably for Darcy, earning her the worst punishment she had ever faced. The lesson was compounded when less then a week later the teacher who she had told, pretended to have no memory of the event, and began treating Darcy like she was a criminal. This was the day Darcy learned that in this world you could only rely on yourself.

Eventually all the lessons Darcy had learned compounded to teach her one thing above all, and that was how to act. Darcy learned how to act like she was less intelligent than she was. She learned to change how she walked and talked and held herself so as not to draw attention to herself. She learned to rearrange her hair and change her body language and manner of speech, so people wouldn't recognize her is she was seen stealing. Darcy learned how to be a different person whenever she couldn't take being Darcy Rose Potter.

At age ten, shortly before her eleventh birthday, Darcy's life changed, and new lessons were opened up to her. This change began when one morning, while collecting the mail, she found a letter addressed to her. Unfortunately, Darcy took the letter with her to the kitchen, where it was snatched by Vernon Dursley. This led to a long and ultimately fruitless attempt by the Dursley's to escape the letters that ended in a small house, on a small rock, in the middle of the sea, where Hagrid, personally delivered Darcy's letter, thus beginning the adventures that Darcy would face in the wizarding world.

Darcy's experiences at Hogwarts and in the wizarding world over the next seven years taught her many new lessons, and not just lessons in magic. She learned that the average wizard or witch was, frankly, an idiot, completely incapable of making rational decisions or performing even the simplest of tasks without magic.

In her first year, after avoiding the strange, possible clinically insane red headed woman who was for some reason allowed to yell and scream about muggles in the middle of King's Cross station without getting arrested for breaking the Statue of Secrecy, Darcy was sorted into Ravenclaw. Throughout the year, she reaffirmed her lesson that adults were not to be trusted or relied upon, when her warning that the Sorcerer's Stone hidden in the school was going to be stolen was ignored, forcing her to stop the theft herself, proving to her that Dumbledore was either an idiot or trying to manipulate her, although on the plus side, she made her first real friend in the muggleborn (she still believed the word "muggle" was an example of the racist ignorance of most witches and wizards) Gryffindor, Hermione Granger, as well as having the chance to study a person who was so mind numbingly moronic, that she was surprised he had ever learned how to dress himself, in Ron Weasley.

In her second year she learned that wizards and witches had a group mentality and were perfectly happy to both jump to conclusions without thought, and ignore any questions that lingered about an event as long as the event was resolved. She also discovered the only way to clear your name in regards to a crime was through an act of ridiculous heroism that borders on the absurd. This was learned when due to her ability to talk to snakes, she was blamed by the majority of the school for the attacks taking place, which led to her having to kill a sixty foot snake with a three foot long sword. The fact that she was the one who had to deal with the problem, once again pointed out to her that Dumbledore was likely manipulating her for his own reasons, a belief that would be proven time and again through the rest of her schooling. But once again on the plus side, she made another new friend in a first year Ravenclaw named Luna Lovegood.

Her third year in the wizarding world start rather poorly when she accidentally blew up her Aunt Marge, who was uncle Vernon's sister.

(It should be said that "blew up" in this sense means "inflated like a balloon", as opposed to the more traditional blew up as in "exploded and rendered into small, bloody chunks". Of course the latter definition may have been the better in the long run, as it would have saved social services thousands of pounds in tax payer money that was used to look after Marge Dursley in the years to come as her health failed her. Money that would be wasted in the end, due to the unfortunate accident involving a mobility scooter, three dogs, a large eggplant, a pound of butter and a bootlegged copy of the Star Wars Christmas Special. An accident that is far too graphic too describe here, and really doesn't bare thinking about)

However, this led to her spending the rest of her summer away from her relative's dubious care at The Leaky Cauldron, in Diagon Alley. The year however took a down turn when Dementors, the horrible guards of Azkaban were stationed at the school, to ostensibly protect the students from escaped mass murderer Sirius Black. Due to series of unfortunate events, Sirius Black, who Darcy learned was her godfather, and more importantly was innocent of the crime he was convicted of had to go on the run, after the true traitor Peter Pettigrew escaped yet again. On the plus side she learned the Patronus charm so she was quite happy with that.

The rest of her time at Hogwarts followed a similar path with each year having its ups and downs (though, admittedly mostly downs). In fourth year she was unwillingly entered in the Triwizard Tournament, and a disguised death eater masquerading as Mad-Eye Moody, demonstrated and in the case of the Imperious, used the unforgivable curses for her class, but she was happy to discover that she was a lesbian thanks to the French champion Fleur Delacour, and learned an adage that she would follow for the rest of her life in the phrase "CONSTANT VIGILANCE". The year ended on the unfortunate down note of Lord Voldemort being resurrected.

The fifth year ushered in the reign of Umbridge, ridiculous dreams of a random, obscure hallway (and really, if this plan to lure Darcy to the prophecy room didn't prove Voldemort's idiocy than nothing did. Their was no conceivable way he could have ensured that she would be able to find the hallway he was showing her in real life, yet he persisted in sending her visions of it night after night, with no directions as to where the damn hallway was.)

The annoyance of the visions Voldemort sent her was compounded by the annoyance of her failed occlumency lessons with Snape (Because of cause giving a jackass with a grudge against her father, and an extremely disturbing obsession with her mother free reign to batter her mind was just a terrific idea) and the emotional devastation caused by the death of Sirius Black, with the only upside being Lord Voldemort's exposure.

Sixth year started with her finding a book on occlumency and legilimency, (which it turned out when taught correctly she had a natural aptitude towards) and a potions book by someone called the Half-Blood Prince (a person who clearly believed they were far smarter than they actually were, while Darcy could admit the Prince's talent with potions, only an idiot would write spells in the margins of book and not add descriptions - admittedly, Darcy realised that she wasn't a prime example of intelligence, seeing as she chose to test the unknown spells anyway). It continued with tales of Voldemort's childhood, and the knowledge of Horcruxes. It ended on the high note (in Darcy's opinion at least) of Dumbledore's death, and the other high note (in most people's opinions) of Snape being a traitor.

What should have been her seventh year, instead led her on a hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes, and a few magical artefacts which (apparently) were created by Death, as a reward to some brothers for surviving where they shouldn't have (by not drowning, because they were smart enough to build a bridge - though it does beg the question, if the three brothers had just decided not to cross the dangerous river, would that count as beating death?) The year culminated with the final battle at Hogwarts, a battle that ended with Darcy standing tall (at least, as tall as her five foot four frame allowed her to stand) over Voldemort's corpse, the Deathly Hallow's in her possession.

Darcy spent the next few years in seclusion, avoiding the new fame that came with upgrading her over hyphenated from the girl-who-lived to the woman-who-conquered, as well as avoiding the endless marriage proposals, and public demands for her to wed and have a child. The unfortunate side effect of her life up to that point as well as her current seclusion led to her developing (more so than she already had) rampant paranoia. Due to this paranoia she had a habit of keeping her most treasured possessions, as well as everything she would possibly need in an emergency, in a bag which she kept shrunken around her neck. Included in this bag were her photo albums, some of her more esoteric and interesting books, her broom, around fifty thousand galleons, twenty-five thousand pounds, numerous healing potions, and all three deathly hallows (which after repeated, but failed attempts to get rid of both Wand and Stone, she concluded were, to a degree at least; sentient, and bluntly refused to leave her alone - in fact the way they turned up again whenever she threw them out, made her fairly certain she was being stalked by the two inanimate objects).

She spent her time taking advantage of the vast amount of books in the Black family library, which had been left to her along with the rest of the Black Family estate, to learn new and exciting magic's. It was among these books that she found a spell that led to Darcy Rose Potter entering a new world and becoming Darcy Lewis.

The one problem Darcy had noticed with the Black Family Library was its age. Now the fact the books were old wasn't the problem, the problem was that over the centuries generation after generation had read the books in the library and many had added notes in the margins. These notes ranged from critiques and corrections, to the ever hilarious crudely drawn penis. However, the most interesting notes in Darcy's opinion were the spells. Scrawled in the margins, and inner covers of many of the books were incantations for spells. Unfortunately, few had descriptions of their effects, and Darcy was very curious. Curious enough that she began testing them.

So it happened that one summers evening, some three years after the defeat of Voldemort, Darcy came across a spell in tome theorizing about time travel, and alternate dimensions. Without thought for the consequences Darcy took out her wand and read the incantation aloud "Novum Testamentum ad iter aperiundum*!" And with a flash of light, Darcy Rose Potter disappeared.

As she disappeared, Darcy failed to notice that everything attached to her body was being systematically destroyed, which is to say, she was losing her clothes. This systematic destruction, unfortunately was not limited to her clothes, but also went about destroying her emergency bag, and everything in it, and while gold, and books, and broom were quickly torn apart on a subatomic level, the three semi-sentient, astoundingly powerful magical items known collectively as the hallows, were not so happy to quietly be destroyed. Thus they concentrated there power and were quickly absorbed into Darcy Rose Potter. Something she would not be aware of for some time to come.

As Darcy Rose Potter experienced a rather unscheduled departure, far away, in a distant universe, a hooded figure raised there head. The figure, a being of such power even Odin was wary of them, had been happily watching her beloved, as he joyously unalived people, whilst simultaneously ignoring her would be suitor, when they had felt it. A disturbance, an echo, an unannounced change in the fabric of this reality. More importantly, the figure felt a sliver of their own power. A small piece, but a piece none the less. A piece that sought to control the figure. For a moment the darkness beneath the hood seemed to become darker, and the universe itself seemed to chill as it felt the figures mounting rage. But the figure was old, wise, it would not let its anger make it act in haste. So it pushed the growing fury down, and sat back to observe. The figure would watch the newcomer's actions as they became accustomed to a new universe, and a new life. In time the figure would take action against the newcomer, but only after the figure knew what the newcomer would do.

In silence Death raised her head.

*"Novum Testamentum ad iter aperiundum" is Latin for "open a passage to a new world"


	4. Chapter 3: New Beginnings or How to Rema

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

AN – At this point I'm going to switch perspective to first person for the most part. Third person perspective will still be used in places, but will mostly be for background and exposition. Also, as far as certain magical abilities go, I'm going to making some changes to how they work, most notably apparition. In this story, apparition requires knowledge of both your planned destination, and of your current location. This is to explain why Darcy won't immediately attempt to apparate back to Grimmauld place. Without knowing where she currently is, she doesn't know which direction to apparate in.

Chapter 3: New Beginnings or How to remain calm while Underdressed

Upon awakening, the first thing Darcy noticed was that her mouth tasted and felt like she had just eaten the result of angry sex between an ashtray and a used box of kitty litter. The second thing she noticed was that is seemed to be around midnight. The third thing she noticed was that she was no longer sitting on her comfortable, reclining and magically vibrating chair, next to her lovely warm fire, in her cosy little sitting room at number 12 Grimmauld Place, rather she appeared to be an alley way in the inner city somewhere. The fourth thing Darcy noticed was that she was completely naked. It was at this point Darcy began to hyperventilate.

"Ok, Darcy get a hold of yourself" I thought frantically to myself. "Need to stay calm and figure things out".

"Breathe, Darcy, deep breaths, in…out…in…out…" After a few deep breaths I managed to get a hold of myself, and started taking stock of the situation.

First thing, I'm naked. Not exactly a good thing, considering I seem to be in the middle of the inner city. Secondly, I have serious headache, and my mouth tastes like a herd of hippogriffs' used it as a toilet. Conclusion, I got extremely drunk last night. That makes sense…right?

"Except, no matter how drunk I might have gotten, I would remember drinking wouldn't I? Also I don't drink, not since that time in sixth year when I got drunk and made out with Ginny Weasley. EWW, do not want to think about that, she was creepy as hell. Also I don't keep any alcohol as home, so me getting drunk doesn't make sense. So what the hell happened?"

Ok, brain, we can figure this out. What is the last thing I can remember? Let's see, I was sitting at home, reading, as per usual. I saw a spell written in the margins next to the section about alternate realities, and like the smart, logical, forward thinking person I am, I tried it…shit.

This is why I should really listen to Hermione more. She always warned me about testing unknown spells and this is what happens when I ignore her. She is never going to let me live this down…of course what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

Of course her knowing or not knowing is something of a moot point if I can't get home in one piece, so first things first, I need clothes.

Glancing around the alley I had found myself awakening in, I noticed that the building to the right of me had a door way opening on to the alley, and seemed to be a store of some kind. As I was naked I was not willing to walk around to the front of the store to find out what kind, but I could only hope it was a store that sold clothing of some kind.

I made my way to the door and reached for the wand holster I keep on my right arm at all times, only to find myself grasping at nothing. This was the moment I really started panicking.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, where's my wand, where's my wand?" My mind raced as I frantically patted my body down hoping to feel my wand in a non-existent pocket. "WAIT! Maybe I dropped it! Come on, where are you? Here, wandy, wandy, wandy! Stop it Darcy, of course it's not going to answer you, it's an inanimate object, it's not like it can hear you…unless it can, and isn't responding because I'm not using its name" It was at this point I realised I probably spent too much time with Luna, and more importantly it was at this point I realised my wand was nowhere in the area.

"Ok, I'm naked, in the city, with no wand, no way of contacting anyone, and no idea where I am, still could be wor-SHUT UP BRAIN DON'T FINISH THAT SENTENCE, THINKING THAT IS SURE TO MAKE THINGS WORSE!"

I realised then that I need to stop getting distracted and get back to finding a way out of the situation I was, and the first step, was clothes. I went back to the door and pushed on it experimentally hoping it would be unlocked, and to my enormous lack of surprise, it wasn't. However there really didn't seem to be a lot else I could do at that point other then keep pushing on the door and hoping for the best.

"Come on door, open up, please, please, please! I'll be your friend if you do! Come on, OPEN UP!" With a grunt of surprise I felt my magic well up inside me and flow down through my hands and into the door, which suddenly fell open. Unfortunately, I was leaning all my weight on it and I fell right with it, landing in an undignified, though admittedly rather attractive (in my incredibly humble opinion at least) pile on the floor.

"Well not my most dignified entrance…" I muttered to myself as pulled myself up from the floor. Glancing around I noticed I was in an unlit hallway, with several doors leading off it. "Ok, first things first, need to make sure there are no cameras around, so how would I find that out…" Making my way along the hallway I checked what was on each doorway, seeing bathroom, break room, storage room, show room, and finally, office.

"Bingo," I whispered triumphantly, before slapping myself in reprimand for uttering such a cheesy sounding word. Grabbing the door knob, I found once again to my complete lack of surprise, that the door was locked, but rather than panicking I simply tried to repeat what I did the first time. Closing my eyes I focused on finding the magic with in me, searching deep inside for the well from which it sprung forth. Finding a warm feeling centred in my gut I tried to draw it up and through my arm into the door knob. A loud click of a lock disengaging signalled my success. "Hmm, seems wandless magic isn't so hard to do after all, I'll have to practice with that." I mused to myself, before entering the office and looking around. The office looked like what I assumed the office of any store would look like, small and cluttered. A beaten up looking desk stoop in one corner with a surprisingly new looking computer on it. Going over to it I found, to my immense relief that the computer was turned on, and the security feed was minimised. Checking it I found myself viewing the show room floor, and to my delight found that it was in fact a clothing store. Checking I realised there was no way I could avoid being spotted by the cameras in the store and it required a password to turn them off, however neither the hallway nor the storage room had cameras in them. With a plan in mind I started to make my way out of the office, before stopping at the door, and glancing speculatively at the desk. Shrugging, I made my way back to it, opening the drawers and rifling through for anything useful. While I didn't find a key for the storage room I did find a small lockbox. Concentrating, I once again sent a small pulse of magic out my hand and into the box causing the lock to slip and the box to open a crack.

"That seems to get easier each time I do it" I thought to myself before opening the box wide and gasping at what was inside. Of course I wasn't shocked by the amount of money, because frankly, there wasn't much of, only a few hundred dollars in twenties and fifties. No, what shocked be was that the money was in dollars. Not pounds. Not euros. Dollars, as in American Dollars.

"Now, why would a store in England have American money in it…unless I'm not in England anymore? Fuck."

AN – Was going to continue on but this seemed like a good place to end the chapter. Darcy has discovered she can perform some minor wandless magic, and realised she may not be in England anymore.


	5. Chapter 4: Planning or How not to Deal w

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

Chapter 4: Planning or How not to deal with Surprises

"Ok, don't panic, so I'm not in England anymore. No need to worry. I can figure this all out. Just need to think…and get clothes. Yes, get clothes and then think."

Suffice to say, finding that I had somehow made a transatlantic trip naked was a something of a shocking revelation to say the least. But, I was quick to decide that my lack of any form of clothing was of the far more immediate concern. Leaving the office, money from the lockbox in hand I made my way to the storage room. Another small pulse of magic (which I realised once again was getting easier and easier) and I was in. The room wasn't big but it was stacked with piles of boxes. Grabbing the closest one I checked the label before putting it to the side and trying again.

"Not going to caught dead in a dress, thank you very much. Now let's see, Men's Jeans, Men's shirts, Men's underwear…eww. Ah here we go Woman's underwear."

Ripping the box open, I began digging through it until I found a several pairs of panties in my size. Slipping a pair on I set the others to the side and start looking for the rest of the clothes I would need. In fairly short order I found a few shirts, a couple pairs of jeans, some socks, and a comfortable pair of shoes, which appeared to be knock-off converse. Finding a bra in my size however posed an entirely different challenge. The store it seemed did not cater to woman of the bustier variety, and there was nothing in stock that would contain my 34DD's. Thinking about it, I decided my best bet was for another attempt at wandless magic. This time I would attempt an enlargement charm.

Grabbing the largest bra they had in stock, I once again focused on the feeling of the magic deep within me, trying to pull it up and mould it to my requirements. After about fifteen minutes of concentration, I finally felt it flowing through me and watched as the bra in my hands magically expanded in the cup department. Putting it on, I found it still to be a bit on the tight side, but figured I would have to make do with it for the time being. Standing up from where I had been kneeled down, I pulled on the rest of the clothes I had selected, gathered up the extras, and prepared to leave. Approaching the door I looked back and saw the state of disarray I had left. Deciding I may as well keep practicing with my new found ability to perform wandless magic, I hastily repacked the boxes before concentrating on the tape and cardboard I had ripped apart to open them. Focusing I tried to imagine the feeling of a Reparo charm, and on the first box had some limited success. I continued on with the rest of the boxes, and by the time I was done had gotten to the point that it took barely any effort at all to perform the charm. Restacking the boxes I left the room, closed the door and made my way back to the alley I had awoken in. Closing the alley door I focused my magic once again to lock, which proved only slightly more difficult than unlocking it would be. I walk up the alley and out on to the street in front of me, glancing at the front of the store I had just stolen from.

"Lewis Boutique Clothes, huh, thanks for the help. Now to figure out where the hell I am."

I made my way down the street eyes narrowed and watchful, taking note of any person that I saw, studying their mannerisms, their expressions, and their dressing styles. Everything I would need to know in order to mimic them, in order to blend in. From an early age I had realised that I was treated differently from others. Where other children were looked at with love and care, I would be looked at with contempt and disdain. When I was little I didn't understand why I was treated differently, treated like I didn't belong. I thought it was something I had done, or was doing, so I thought to myself that if I acted like the kids that people like, than people will like me. So I started to observe them and copy what they did. Needless to say, my plan didn't work. No matter what I did, I was treated the same, like a freak. But the failure of my plan didn't stop me from studying people. I guess it had just become habit, but everywhere I went I observed people, I watched how they walked, listened to how they talked, and practiced mimicking it when I was alone.

Whether it was due to natural talent, or some quirk of my magic, I found that I could copy people's mannerisms perfectly, could match their voices, accents and speaking styles exactly. With these skills I was able to explore far more of my world, both magical and mundane, than I would have been able to otherwise, no matter where I went I was able to act like I belonged, and I quickly learned that acting like you belonged was far better than looking like you belonged. No one questioned why a young girl was in a rich neighbourhood, wearing clothes far too big for her as long as she could speak like a local. So as I wondered the streets of this strange American city I found myself in, I unconsciously adapted to the environment. I began to walk like the locals, hold myself like the locals, even matched expressions with them. All I needed to do now was learn to talk like them.

With that thought in mind I stopped the next person I saw and politely asked if they knew of any nearby restaurants that were still open. With that simple question, I got my first taste of the local accent, and the location of somewhere I could listen to other people talking and learn more.

Following the directions given by the man I had asked I soon found myself at a McDonald's restaurant. Quickly ordering a cheese burger, fries and a coke, I sat down near a group of what appeared to be teenagers and simply listened to them talk. For the next hour I simply sat and listened to the teens talk, memorising their pronunciation, their commonly used words, and their different slang and expressions. By the time they left I was reasonably confident that I had learned enough to pass for a local, so I headed out looking for somewhere to stay for the night.

Finding a cheap motel wasn't difficult, and slipping the receptionist an extra twenty dollars ensured that I wasn't asked for ID. So with that taken care of I settled in to try and figure out exactly where I was.

Turning on the TV I started to flip through the channels, until I found a local late night news program, which told me I was apparently in the city of Charleston, West Virginia. Knowing where I was gave some peace of mind. Now I just had to figure out a way home. Briefly I considered trying to apparate, but dismissed the thought knowing that it simply wasn't possible to apparate all the way across the Atlantic. My best bet was to find a library were I could use a computer to try and find Hermione's parents phone number. They were non magicals, and would know off a way to for me to get home the mundane way. Satisfied with my plan action, I decided to turn off the TV and get some sleep, however it was then, as I turned to reach for the remote, that I discovered a slight hiccup in my plan. A hiccup delivered in an annoyingly cheery voice from the newscaster.

"…that's all for tonight, the twelfth of June, 2007. To all our viewers have a good night."

"Did…did she just say twelfth of June 2007?! But, it can't be…it's only 2001…it's not like I could have just fallen asleep for six years is it?! No, that would be impossible, it must be a mistake, is has to be" My mind raced trying to think of some kind of rational explanation for how I could have possibly travelled six years forward in time, but nothing I thought of made sense. The only possibility was the news show had made a mistake. Grabbing the remote I once again starting looking for something that could prove what date it was. Stumbling across a music channel, I waited with bated breath for the subtitles at the bottom to tell me the song name, the artist, and above all the year of release.

"Ok, the song is "Girlfriend", by Avril Lavigne…never heard of her, and year of release is…2007…" I believe it was at that moment, that for the first time in my life, I fainted.


	6. Chapter 5: Fresh Start or How to Charm s

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

AN – This chapter will skip forward about six months in time, to show how Darcy is dealing with the whole time travel thing. It also will cover how I imagine someone with magic powers would get themselves the needed documentation in order to survive in the modern world, mostly through liberal and morally dubious use of Confundus charm, the Memory charm, Legilimency and, when necessary, the Imperius curse, I assume.

Just so people know, Darcy will not have access to potions, or the ability to brew potions. This will not be because of a lack of skill, but rather due to the ingredients either not existing in the Marvel Cinematic universe, or not having the same magical properties as they did in her original universe. Also, as Darcy no longer has a wand, or any spell books, magical artefacts, etc. She will need to essentially relearn all her magic from scratch and any new magic will be learned through trial and error.

This chapter does get pretty heavy at one point so with that in mind, I'll give a quick warning that it may contain triggers for possible animal cruelty, attempted rape, suicide, murder and some gore. I feel that it needs it for Darcy's character development, so she can become someone who can eventually work at S.H.I.E.L.D. a job which requires a certain willingness to get one's hands dirty.

Chapter 5: Fresh Start or How to Charm Strangers and Manipulate People

A yell of "Darcy, order up!" accompanied by the loud ring of an extremely obnoxious bell, reminded me once again why I hated my job. The reminder was punctuated by the six hundred pound land whale of a customer who made a slow, lumbering attempt at pinching my ass. Unfortunately, when you find yourself in a foreign country, seven years in the future, with no documentation or proof that you A, exist, and B, are in the country legally, one finds themselves, with somewhat limited employment options. It's either work your ass off for minimum wage and tips in a shitty diner, shake your ass on a stage in a shitty strip club for slightly better wage and tips, or sell your ass on a shitty (in this case, often literally) street corner for an hourly rate you set yourself, and frankly, the diner seemed like the lesser of evil of the three. Of course as the land whale again reminded me, just because I wasn't actually selling my ass (just my pride) didn't lower the amount of people making a grab for it. Fortunately, in the six months I had been in the future, I had managed to greatly improve my abilities with wandless magic, so a small pranking curse, one that caused hives to appear on the targeted area, aimed at every man's favourite place, gave me a small amount of satisfaction and a slight measure of revenge. The satisfaction was quickly quelled by a louder and rather more insistent yell of "DARCY, ORDER UP!" once again accompanied by the incessant ringing of that infuriating bell, broke me from my musings and spurred me back to my much maligned work.

"Just a few more days Darcy, a few more days and you'll have enough money to get home to England, just need to have a little patience."

In the six months I had been in the future, I had spent a great deal of time working towards returning to England. Of course learning it was 2007, instead of 2000 as it should be, put something of a crimp in my plans, but no one ever got anywhere in life without being able to overcome problems. So upon awakening the morning after I had discovered my temporal displacement, I immediately freaked out, I screamed, I cried, I cursed every god I could think of, from Jehovah, to Vishnu, from Osiris to Thor, and between curses I begged them to save me. They didn't. So, after several hours of that, I decided that my little breakdown wasn't very helpful in figuring out how to get home, so I left the motel, and after asking the receptionist for directions, made my way to the library. Three hours of internet research later, found me once again on the verge of a breakdown. No matter what I looked for, I couldn't find any information on the Granger family, no address, no phone number, no records of their having ever existed. Searching for the records or information on the families of any of the other muggle born students I knew, led to the same thing. As I ran out of options, I even found myself desperate enough to look for the Dursley's, but once again, the search turned up nothing.

"Ok, no Granger's, no Finch-Fletchley's, no Creevey's, and no Dursley's…still not sure if I should be happy about that last one or not…never mind I'm happy about it. Alright, so if I can't contact anyone to help get me home, than what do I need to get home on my own? I need money, first and foremost. That means either working, or stealing. As I don't want to land myself in any trouble with the American ministry, work is the best option. Second, I need documentation. Passport, ID of some kind, maybe a license. Getting any of those is going to be difficult. It's not like I can just walk into a government office, and ask for them…so that means magic. Confundus charm maybe? Imperius if I have to. Of course learning to it wandlessly is going to be difficult, but I've already proven I can perform some wandless magic, so it won't be too hard…will it? Either way, I'm not going to figure it out if I don't start trying."

With that thought in mind, I glanced around and began looking for someone to practice on. Spotting a librarian, pushing a cart of books to be re-shelved, I once again, began looking deep within for the well of my magic. Finding it I slowly pulled it up and focusing it on the librarian, sent it out, with the image of what I wanted it to do firm in my mind, a whispered "Confundus" sealed the deal. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I felt the magic flow though me, as if it was unsure of what I wanted from it, but as I watched I was ecstatic to see that the librarian paused in her work of re-shelving the books, and started pulling them off the shelves instead. My happiness was dashed when, after less than five seconds, she shook her head, glanced at her cart with confusion, and with a shrug began, replacing the books back where they belonged. Disappointed in the rather meagre result of my experiment, I sighed, before shaking it off, and began looking for a new target to test out my wandless Confundus on.

Several hours later found me, once again, somewhat despondent about my current situation. My Confundus had improved a small amount, but only a very small amount. Instead of lasting less than five seconds, it now lasted almost six, which was, I reminded myself, while not a great improvement, was improvement none the less. Sighing, I shoved my disappointment to the side, and decided I should start on the first part of my plan to get home. Namely, the part of the plan that involved getting a job, and earning enough money to buy a plane ticket to England. Not to mention earning enough to survive until I could buy my ticket home. With that in my focused once again on the computer in front of me and began looking for jobs in Charleston. I quickly found that most of the jobs available for a twenty year old woman, with no job experience or qualifications involved varying degrees of nudity. However, I did find several ads that didn't require and real ability, at various small cafes, restaurants, and bars around the area, so with a list in hand I left the library, and made my way to the first one. It was at that first place, a small bar by the name of Jo's Place that I made, what might very well be, one of the most important decisions of my life, though it would be a long time until I realised just how important the decision would be. The decision came about when the bar manager, a surly middle aged man by the name of Ted, asked be for my full name. I began to respond, in the same way any person who had lived by the same name for nearly twenty years would.

"I'm Darcy R…" it was at that point I trailed off, as I came to a startling realisation.

"Darcy Rose Potter. I've been Darcy Rose Potter, for twenty years now, and out of those twenty years, I only actually enjoyed being Darcy Rose Potter for about one of them. Darcy Rose Potter has been abused, hated, reviled, worshipped and ignored, sometimes a few of them at once, but never once has she just been allowed to be Darcy. Being here, now, I have an opportunity to be just Darcy! No more girl-who-lived! No more woman-who-conquered! No more chosen one, no more heir of Slytherin, no more Triwizard Champion, just Darcy! And the best way to be just Darcy is to no longer have the Rose Potter part. But that leaves the question, Darcy who?" Apparently this train of thought had taken me longer than I thought it did, and I was shaken from it by Ted's impatient voice.

"Well? Darcy who?"

It was then that I said two words that would become synonymous with who I was for the rest of my life.

"Darcy Lewis."

Why I just Lewis, I didn't know then, and I don't know now. Perhaps it was guilt, and a feeling of debt towards that little boutique I had stolen from, or more likely it was simply the first name that came to mind. But from that day forward I was Darcy Lewis. I just didn't know that it would be permanent.

While I didn't end up getting the job at Jo's Place, that little bar has held a special place in my heart ever since.

Eventually, after many, many, attempts at getting a job, I eventually got a position as a waitress, at a diner called Marty's Kitchen, the pay was crap, and the hours long, and despite my constant searching I never did find out who Marty was, but as the saying goes begger's can't be choosers. I found a small one room apartment, that took cash payment, and didn't ask any questions, and I routinely found myself digging through the trash at Marty's for food in order to save a bit more of my miniscule earnings, but after a little over a month I realised it would take me a long, long time to save enough to get a plane ticket to England. So after some wrestling with my conscience on the moral implications of it, I began confounding my customers, fooling them into pulling out a twenty instead of a ten, or a fifty instead of a twenty when it came time to pay. Doing so helped me improve in my abilities with wandless magic in leaps and bounds, and I soon began trying more difficult and more powerful applications. I knew that it didn't matter how powerful my Confundus charm was, it would never be strong enough to make a government worker suddenly want to add an entirely new person into government systems. In fact I quickly realised the only spell strong enough to make someone do that, short of torturing them, or threatening to kill them or their families, was the Imperius curse. After already getting over the moral implications of confounding people to earn more money, it was difficult to push aside my misgivings on the use of a curse that had been dubbed as unforgivable, so I began practicing it in much the same way the fake Mad-Eye Moody had demonstrated it in my fourth year, by making insects and small animals perform behaviours that they would never normally perform. Making cockroaches take baths in the sink, or making squirrels attack fat kids (I wanted to get some entertainment out of it) soon advanced to making dogs try and climb trees, or cats play fetch. After two months of practice, making it now a little over three months since my arrival in the future, I made my first attempt at using the Imperius curse on a human, though it wasn't entirely my idea at the time. The situation that caused me to use it on a human for the first time, also unfortunately, led me to my first and last time committing murder.

It was late at night, on the twenty seventh of September. I was walking to my crappy little apartment, after finishing up a late shift at work, when I was grabbed from behind. Before I could even realise what was happening I was dragged into an alleyway, a hand over my mouth and a gun to my head. In front of me, stood a man who, at first glance, seemed entirely average. To average almost, a man you would never look twice at. He was average height, average build, had fair skin, that was neither to tan, nor to pale. He had brown hair in a short cut that wouldn't look out of place on a lawyer, or on the criminal he was defending, and he had brown eyes. Not the brown of chocolate or coffee or some esoteric type of wood that only seems to exist for the purpose of over descriptive language in poorly written teen romance novels, no, they were just brown. In fact the only thing that wasn't average about the man was the fact that he was holding a gun, and was about to, along with his partner who currently held me from behind, rape me.

At that point I was panicking, and I'm sure that one of the two men was talking or threatening me or something, but I couldn't hear them. All I could hear was the pounding of my heart in my chest and rushing of blood in my veins. All I could feel was fear, but as the entirely too average man in front of me began to undo his pants; I felt something well up inside of me and overtake the fear. I felt rage, hot rage burning throughout my body until I truly understood the phrase seeing red for the first time. I whether it was due to instinct or choice I don't know, but in my rage I reached for the magic inside me and twisted in the same manner I had been earlier at work when I made that fly perform a suicide dive into some rude assholes mouth. But this time when I sent the magic out at the man in front of me, there wasn't a mouth for him to dive bomb. What there was, was a handgun, and a head for it to be pointed at and a trigger to be pulled. So deep in my rage was I that I didn't even hear the guns retort, but I saw the muzzle flash, I saw the blood and brain spray out of the side of the average man's head and splatter against the alley wall. I felt the grip of the man holding me loosen as he recoiled in shock, and once again seemingly without conscious choice, I spun and stared straight at him. Where the first man had been too average, this man was quite the opposite. He was thin, almost unhealthily so, and appeared all the more thin due to his height, which topped my own by over a foot. His head seemed too long, almost as if it had been stretched out or squeezed between two brick walls. The length of his face had the odd effect of making his face seem stretched out, like a face drawn on a balloon that had been just slightly overinflated. His nose, which sat somewhat off to the left of his face seemed almost absurdly large, sticking out far past the rest of his face, and looking like it had been broken one too many times in the past. His eyes, which were a rather startling shade of blue that would have been quite beautiful in another face, appeared to be staring off in two different directions, likely due to the width separating them, and his mouth, which was hanging open in shock brought on by his friends sudden, and unannounced suicide, seemed almost devoid of teeth, with only two stubborn ones still hanging on to his bottom gum. His blonde hair was long, stringy and looked like it hadn't been washed in month. The whole hideous picture was finished with a scraggly, unkempt attempt at a beard, and a monobrow so thick, it looked like it probably had some manner of tiny bugs living it. All in all it truly made for a face only a mother could love, and she could only love it after a few bottles of cheap vodka.

I still find it odd that I can remember his face with such clarity, despite only looking at it for a moment before my rage once again exploded, and I made that man follow in his recently departed friend's footsteps. A gun raised to the head, a trigger pulled, and once again blood and brain splattered against the alley wall. I don't know how long I stood there before my rage faded, and my adrenaline levels lowered enough to truly understand what I had done. It might have been a few seconds, or it might have been a few hours, but when it did, I decided not to stick around. A quick apparition and I was back home in my apartment safe and sound, and above all terrified. Although it should be said, what terrified me wasn't that I'd almost been raped, all though that certainly did scare me. No, what terrified me was that I had just killed two men, and that I was happy about it. It was with that thought in mind that I slowly faded off into a fitful sleep, gun flashes and blood spatters haunting my dreams. It wouldn't be until the next morning that I realised I had successfully performed the Imperius Curse on a person.

It wasn't until a month after the incident with the two would be rapists, which I will hence forth refer to only as "THE INCIDENT" I finally managed to get up the will to make use of my recently found ability to use the Imperius curse wandlessly and begin to make arrangements to get home to England.

While I was already well on my way to having enough money for a plane ticket, I still needed a passport, and despite what some books will tell you, a person who finds themselves in a strange new world, with no friends or contacts, does not instantly know who to talk to in order to get perfectly forged documents, with minimum fuss, for a reasonable price. That meant that I would need to figure out a way to get one by myself.

The first step was making sure I existed. I don't mean existed in a literal sense, but rather existed in a legal sense. That meant I needed a birth certificate, and a social security number. Thus I began with step one of my brilliant three step plan to get a passport (a plan I would later realise, was neither as brilliant as I first thought, nor in fact, three step), get a birth certificate. Obviously, the best place to get a birth certificate was where most births occur, the hospital. So I on my day off from work I headed to the CAMC Women and Children's Hospital in Charleston, and made my way to the hospital cafeteria. Once there I sat in a corner, under a mild notice-me-not charm (a charm I had practiced and used religiously when not at work ever since "THE INCIDENT") and began to gently use Legilimency (another bit of magic I had practiced extensively since "THE INCIDENT") to scan the surface thoughts of the doctors to find one who had both been working at the hospital for at least twenty years, and secondly, had worked in the maternity ward between June 1986 and December 1987. I had decided on that time frame, due to my current age being just recently turned twenty one I figured it was best to ensure I was legally around the same age. Luck seemed to favour me that night as after only fifteen minutes, I stumbled across a certain Dr. Geoffrey Masters, a fifty-seven year old who had been working at this CAMC hospital for thirty years, and was currently the chief of staff for the Women and Children's hospital. After another fifteen minutes of observing him he stood from his table, and according to what he was thinking began making his way back to his office. Quickly standing and following him, I stopped, ostensibly to ask for directions to the bathroom, but in actuality to quickly use the Imperius curse with a set of quick concise instructions for him to follow.

"Imperio, go to your office, find or call for a copy of the birth certificates that were in use between June 1986 and December 1987. Fill in the following. Name, Darcy Lewis, Date of Birth twelfth of June, 1987. Parents, Jack and Miranda Lewis nèe Granger. Fill all other required information with averages, or leave unfilled. After you have filled it out and signed it meet me at the bus stop at the front of the hospital." And with those simple instructions, the good Dr. Masters was on his way.

As I made my way to the bus stop to wait, I considered the implications of the information I had given him. Instead of giving him my real date of birth, adjusted for the seven year difference, I had instead given the date that I arrived in this time. Admittedly, that date could be thought of as a rebirth of sorts, much like my new name, but still, it was something I defiantly needed to think about. The reasons behind giving my new imaginary parents the same names as by best friend Hermione's parents, even going so far as to use "Granger" as my false mother's maiden name, was rather more obvious. While the time's I had met them were unfortunately few and far between, they had always struck me as something of a parental ideal. Strict and stern when needed, but not cruel like the Dursley's had been. They were loving and supportive, without being overbearing or smothering like the Weasley matriarch had been. Fun and kind, but without ever acting more like the child than the adult, in the way Sirius had been. To me they were everything a good parent should be and little more on top. After meeting them the first time, and hearing stories about them from Hermione, they became what I envisioned my parents behaving like when I imagined them. While they may never realise it, Jack and Miranda Granger, were more like parents to me in the five times I met them, then anyone else had ever been in my life.

After sitting at the bus stop thinking about the instructions I had given the doctor for half an hour or so, I felt a strain of my magic, approaching from behind. Turning I spotted the good doctor, making his way towards me, birth certificate in hand. Grinning, I quickly took it from him and checking it over found everything I expected to be there. The only thing I was missing now was a social security number, but I knew where to go to get that. Quickly I sat the doctor on the bench, removed the Imperius curse, and Obliviating him of everything from the time he left the cafeteria. Now the great thing about the Memory charm, is that after use it gives the caster a period of about a minute in which the charmed person is in a state of only semi consciousness. This time can be used either to run away, or as I used it, to implant a false memory to replace what had been removed through a rather subtle use of Legilimency, and while implanted memory's will never mesh quite the same as real ones and be easily spotted by any half way decent Legillimens, for someone who has no reason to assume that their mind had been tampered with, the haziness of the memory is just mistaken as them having not been paying much attention at the time, so Dr. Masters new memory of falling asleep in his office, before rousing himself for a short walk around the hospital, during which he stopped to chat with a rather attractive brunette at the bus stop, would be readily accepted by him.

So birth certificate in hand, I boarded a bus, and made my way home to begin preparing the next step of my plan.

As it turned out, getting a social security number was much easier than getting a birth certificate. A quick trip to the local office of the Social Security Administration, and an even quicker Imperius curse on the branch manager got an audience in a private office, with a government bureaucrat who was more than happy to help me out. Within an hour I found myself leaving the office, safe in the knowledge that I now existed in government databases and had a completely legal social security number. As for the bureaucrat who had helped, he was left with the rather joyful memory of a romp with another of the callgirls his wife didn't know about, and unknown compulsion to tell his wife all about his infidelity as soon as he got home. Let it never be said that I don't stick up for my fellow woman.

My next stop, as it turned out was my most frustrating, the DMV. The reason for my frustration was simple, there was simply no way I could confound and/or place every single one of the seeming thousands of people in line before me under the Imperius curse in order to get to the head of the line. After waiting for what felt like a few years, but was actually only a few hours, I finally made it to the front of the line, where I met the single rudest, unhelpful, useless sack of crap I had ever had the misfortune of meeting. After arguing with her for another hour I finally gave in and fell back on my Imperius/Obliviate/Legilimency solution and was able to leave, driver's license in hand. As for the help, she would go home to find she had somehow contracted a nasty case of genital herpes. I'll admit a somewhat petty thing to do, but still, not something I have ever regretted.

Having had enough for the day I went home and suffered through another night of fitful, restless sleep. The same kind of sleep I had been suffering since "THE INCIDENT", and would continue to suffer for a long time to come. Even a month after "THE INCIDENT" the interruptions in my sleep were still not due to how close I came to be raped, but still done to the fear I felt from realising that I had enjoyed killing. Fear that I would enjoy killing again. These thoughts that kept me awake at night, and distracted in the day, terrified me more than anything ever had. After all it seemed that these were the types of thoughts that led relatively normal, well adjusted, functioning members of society, to become serial killers, mass murders and rapists. None of which I ever wanted to be. These thoughts and fears would not be something I would be able to move past for another four or more years when I finally met someone who I was able to talk to about "THE INCIDENT" and about my thoughts and feelings on it, and just as a redhead had given me life originally, a redhead would help me continue to live.

AN – Seemed like a good place to end the chapter. Next time Darcy finally learns that she not only left her time, but her world as well.


	7. Chapter 6: Homecoming or How to cope wit

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

AN- This chapter will start to detail a lot of the differences between Darcy's new world, and Darcy's old world, as well as start to create plot that will be used to fill in Darcy's life both before and between Marvel movies. Later portions of the chapter may be disturbing to sensitive readers, so discretion is advised.

Chapter 6: Homecoming or How to cope with Disappointment

I should have realized sooner that nothing but pain and disappointment awaited me in England. If nothing else the run of good luck I had on my journey there should have been a fairly obvious sign of bad things ahead. But like a hopeless fool, I ignored my misgivings and went any way; I would end up regretting the trip for years to come.

The first sign that things were going to well came when I went to get my passport, the very next day after arranging all my other identification. The fact that I was able to get a passport without needing to use any magic at all should have told me things were going to well, but I just wrote it off, assuming I was due a bit of good luck.

The second sign that things were going to well came on the day of my flight, when upon opening the curtains and looking out the window, I saw not the predict storms that were all set to play havoc with departure times, but rather sunny, blue skies, with not a cloud to be seen. Once again I wrote it off as being due some good luck.

I was able to ignore the taxi I booked to take me to the airport arriving right on time, and even the fact that we somehow got nothing but green lights all the way there, but I really should have gotten uneasy when I was told my flight had been overbooked and instead of getting kicked off the plane I was bumped up to first class. Unfortunately for me, I was so overcome with excitement to be going home that I was still quite happy to board the plane.

After a long, though quite comfortable flight, we touched down in Heathrow, and I immediately hailed a cab, jumped in and directed him to Grimmauld Place. It was there that I would get my first taste of my new reality.

Stepping out of the cab on the corner of Grimmauld Place, I quickly walked down the street eager for my long awaited view of my home at number twelve. When I got said view, in hindsight, I'm willing to admit that my first reaction was, admittedly, denial. Complete and utter denial, after all, regardless of the proof before my eyes, there was absolutely, positively no way in hell, that in the seven years I had been gone, number twelve Grimmauld Place had turned from my big, cosy, dark, Gothic styled house into a big, open, brightly colored day care centre. The very though was ludicrous. I mean even if, somehow the wards had fallen in my absence to the point where the house was visible to non-magicals, and that's a big if, the other wards would still stop anyone from entering, or being able to damage the house. Therefore there was simply no way it could have been both found, and renovated into a day care centre. In my denial, I then reasoned to myself, that the only way number twelve Grimmauld Place could be a day care centre is if I was at the wrong Grimmauld Place. Realizing this I mentally reprimanded myself for catching a cab there, when upon arrival at Heathrow, I was at a close enough distance to be perfectly capable of apparating to my home. Deciding that I might as well do so now, I walked to the small park across from the fake Grimmauld Place that looked remarkably similar to the park across from the real Grimmauld Place, and attempted to apparate home. Only to arrive after said apparition at the exact same spot I had just tried to leave. This was the moment my denial, turned to the beginnings of panic.

"Ok, so my home's gone, but I'm sure there is a perfectly good explanation…maybe the wards hiding it from non-magicals failed, and rather than deal with cost of putting up new ones, the ministry of magic decide to just sell it back to the non-magicals, I'm sure if I just go to the ministry this will all be sorted out…yeah that's what I'll do, go to the ministry."

With a new plan in mind I once again apparated, this time to appear on a fortunately empty back street in London, next to an old, disused phone booth. Stepping inside I quickly dialled the numbers I remembered from my experience in fifth year "6-2-4-4-2, come on, come on…" my hopes for a speedy resolution to my housing issues were dashed when instead of a voice asking me to state my name, and the purpose of my visit, I got…nothing. No voice, no dial tone, no wrong number please try again, nothing. This was the moment the beginnings of panic, turned into fall scale desperation.

"Ok, ok, ok, so the phone isn't working, maybe the ministry of magic had moved its office? Yeah I bet that's it, after all the old offices were attacked by Voldemort. It makes sense they would move. Let's see now, I'm close to Saint Mungo's, I'm sure if I go there someone can tell where the new ministry offices are." And with that thought, I set off on a short walk to the fake department store window that hid the entrance to Saint Mungo's. Upon arriving, with nary a thought I tried to walk straight in, only to find that instead of finding myself in the reception area of the hospital, surrounded by magical maladies ranging from the weird and wacky to the downright terrifying, I instead found myself with my face flattened against the glass of an apparently very real, and very operational, department store. This was the moment I realized, that for all my desperation, and denial, my excuses for the lack of known magical locations were starting to run thin. But despite everything I wasn't ready to give up yet. So hailing a cab I made my way to Charing Cross Road, and the Leaky Cauldron.

As turned out, while I had made my way to Charing Cross Road, I had not made my way to the Leaky Cauldron. Rather, in the spot where the Leaky Cauldron should have been, was a rather nice, though a bit overpriced sporting goods store. Running to the alley behind the store and tapping bricks also availed me nothing. No matter where I tapped, and no matter how much magic I pumped into the wall, Diagon Alley did not appear.

After the disappointment of finding neither the Leaky Cauldron, nor Diagon Alley, I began a mad spree of apparitions around England trying to find some trace of the magical world, but alas found nothing. Where Luna's house should have stood I found not the beautiful, eccentric, tower like house I knew and loved but rather an open field. Nearby, where the Burrow should have stood, was now a copse of trees. The house I was born in Godric's Hollow was now apartments; the Gaunt Shack was a local pub, and the Riddle Manor a small bed and breakfast. The seaside cave where Voldemort hid his locket was still, there but not trace of magic was in it. Finally in desperation I made my way to Hogsmeade, where I found, not a small magical community, but forest, with not a magical dwelling in sight. So with heavy heart, I went for my last hope, and began the walk from Hogsmeade, to Hogwarts, slowly coming to the realization that not only had I travelled forward in time seven years, but also somehow travelled to a new dimension. After all it was the only reasonable explanation. No matter how I tried to deny it, there was no way that all of British magical society simply vanished without a trace in seven years. My theory on having travelled to a new dimension would be satisfactorily proven when I arrived at the sight of Hogwarts.

Hogwarts, as it turned out, proved to be most bitter disappointment. Unlike the other magical sights I had visited that simply didn't exist, on the sight of Hogwarts there still stood a castle. Only instead of the beautiful, old, majestic castle full of masterful stonework and flowing arches that I knew, this castle was little more than an old ruin, decayed and crumbling. Trying to ignore the tears that welled in my eyes as my last hope was dashed, I turned away, ready to leave, and only then did I noticed something that gave a brief flash of renewed hope. A tingle, beginning at the base of my spine flowing up and out until it suffused my whole body with a thrum of magic.

"THE WARDS!" I thought excitedly, "The wards that keep non-magicals from seeing the castle are affecting me; all I have to do is walk through them."

This, as it turned out was much easier said than done. Each step I took towards the castle felt harder. The closer I got the more I wanted to turn and leave. I would at later time's wish that I had.

Finally, after several minutes of pushing my through the wards, I breached the final layer and looked upon a castle that was no longer crumbling and ruined. A castle that was definitely Hogwarts. But a Hogwarts that could not be my own. For a start, my Hogwarts was a school, a school which at this time of year should be filled with eager students ready to learn. The windows should be shining with fire light, and the doors should stand closed, tall and proud.

Even at a glance I could tell there was no life in this Hogwarts, the windows were cold and empty, as the fire places inside would no doubt reflect, and the doors did not stand tall and proud, but bent and broken, and thrown wide. The door on the left side was pitted and scarred, barely hanging on to rusted and bent hinges, and the door on the right had been ripped right of its hinges, barely identifiable lumps of rust the only sign of them. It lay broken, in the centre of the entrance hall, and as I approached, I was horrified to see what looked like the scars left by great claws gouged deep into its wood.

"What…what the hell happened here?"

Slowly, cautiously, I made my way through the broken door way and looked, in growing horror at the entrance hall. Where once suits of armour stood guard, shining brightly and ready to defend against attackers, now remained only torn and bent scraps of metal, tarnished by the years. The living portraits that once lined the walls were now empty, faded and void of life. The thick layers of dust that covered every surface, told me, more than anything else that I would find no house elves in this Hogwarts, ready at a moment's notice to cook a veritable feast for any hungry student who asked. All that remained of the once bright and cheerful entrance hall was dust, and ruin, and as I progressed through the castle, it would only get worse.

Making my way through the castle, I saw sign after sign that something terrible had happened. Statues and paintings had been torn down and destroyed, doors smashed and ripped of hinges, the very walls scarred with more of the claw like marks I had seen on the front door. It was on the second floor that I began to realize the true scale of what had happened at Hogwarts. There, only a little ways away from the bathroom that marked the entrance to its home, lay the sixty foot long skeleton of snake, only a bones and a few scraps of skin remaining of Slytherin's pet. It seemed that whatever had attacked the school, not even the mighty basilisk was able to stop it. The third floor once again yielded nothing in my search, the only site of note being the burned out remains of the once renowned Hogwarts library, once again adding to my discontent.

"Has nothing survived...?" All I had found thus far, was destruction, signs of a battle fought and lost, in this now decrepit castle. The only consolation was that I had yet to stumble upon any human remains. However that changed when I reached the fourth floor.

On the landing at the top of the main stairway between the third and fourth floors, there they lay. Three skeletons, the broken wands still clutched in bony fingers evidence that they were once wizards or witches, who died fighting to protect their home. The higher I climbed the castle, the more skeletons I found. Many of them had been so broken and scattered that it was impossible to accurately count the numbers, but by the time I reached the landing of the seventh floor stairway, I estimated there numbers to be over two hundred. It had become eminently clear, that Hogwarts, rather than being a centre of learning for young witch's and wizards, had become instead a last stand against a vicious enemy.

Following the trail of death and destruction it was with mounting horror that I came to the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Where once a painting of the Fat Lady had hung, ever vigilant to warn off intruders, and scold students out after curfew, now stood a gaping hole in the wall, the only remains of the painting some splintered wood and a few scraps of canvas in a heap on the floor. Entering slowly, I laid eyes on the place that those who had tried to hold against the attackers had fallen. Everywhere I looked in the common room I saw bones. Instead of being a bright cheery room, lit be a fire, full of students laughing and talking and doing homework, the room now resembled a mass grave. The bones of hundreds lay scattered around the room, the walls bearing the marks of spell fire showing the fight they put up. A fight that they would never win. Climbing the stairs to boys the dormitory's I was hesitant to look in, fearful of what I would find, and in the seventh year boys dormitory my fear was realized. There, huddled at the back of the room, were remains too small to be adults. The remains of the last magical children, who died huddling together afraid of what was coming. In front of them were the remains of five adults, who had died wand in hands facing the doors, a last, desperate attempt to protect the children.

Struggling against tears, my eyes were drawn to one of the adults in particular. By his position he had taken the duty that none wanted. He lay facing the children, wand still aimed at them. My only guess was that when it became obvious that all was lost, he did the dark duty of giving the children a quick death, so they would not be torn apart by whatever monster was attacking.

Stumbling out of the room, I lost the fight against tears, and sank to the floor racked with sobs. My tears fell, not just for myself for being torn from my world, likely never to return, but for those nameless children, dead before they ever had a chance to live, killed by someone they no doubt knew and trusted. And I wept for that man, who had taken the darkest duty, sparing the children the torture that would come, at the cost of his own soul.

I don't know how long I sat there, on my knees, crying for the dead, but by the time I got a hold of myself the sun was begin to peak over the mountains to the east. Having come this far, I was committed to finding out what happened to these people, so rising to my feet I continued up the stairs towards the head boys room. Unlike the other rooms, the door to the head boys room was torn and broken, but simply open swung back against the wall, and in this room there was only one skeleton. The skeleton was not like the others scattered around the place, but rather seemed to be, for the most part, in one piece. He sat on the floor leaning back against a large desk, and were it not for the right leg which was missing half way up the femur, you would be hard-pressed to tell that he hadn't simply sat down for a nap, and not woken up. The only other sign of its violent end was the familiar sword at its side, still shining, rubies embedded in its hilt glinting in the morning sun, that made its way through the open window.

Upon the desk however, was something that proved far more important than any skeleton. On the desk, open with a quill and ink pot next to it was a diary. Moving to it I gently blew away the dust leaned in close to read the small, flowing hand writing and read.

March 29th, 1282

All our research, all our hopes have it seems, been for naught. No matter what we try nothing can seem to slow down the creatures that mad man unleashed upon us. Of our once great people that numbered in the tens of thousands, a scant six hundred remain. We have gathered here, at what was meant to be a bastion of learning, but is to become little more than a grave for us. We know we cannot hide, for all our magic's; nothing can remain hidden from our enemy. Even the most powerful spell of concealing we know of, the Fidelius charm, is not sufficient, for with it in place, they still smell us, still they hunt us, as they have hunted all that contains magic. All we can do is wait and pray, yet even as I write this I can hear them approaching. Not even Slytherin's mighty basilisk could slow them for long. Its screams as it died echoed throughout the castle, they shall haunt me for what little remains of my life. The children, of which seventeen remain, have been taken to one of the dorms, guarded by five of our best and brightest, among them Antworth Black, my oldest and dearest friend, who tearfully volunteered for that darkest of duties. When the enemy breaches the tower, he shall turn his wand on the children and grant them a quick, merciful death, sparing them the torture the enemy would visit upon them. I can hear them, they approach the tower and I must now end this entry, and prepare. Though my life is drawing to a close, I will not go down without a fight, and I shall send as many of them to hell as I can before I die.

To whoever is reading this, may your life end more peacefully than ours. The only consolation I take with me in death, is that the contract signed by that wretch Malacore will only allow these fiends to remain in this realm so long as us wand wavers do, the muggle folk at least, will not pay for our sins.

Signed, Professor Caius Gryffindor, Last Heir of the Gryffindor line, fourth and last Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Once again, I found myself blinking back tears, this man; this wizard knew that his end was coming. He did not face with false hope or fear, but rather with courage and pride. A lesson I would take to heart. Returning to the diary I flipped back a few pages looking for information on who Malacore was, and what was the true nature of the enemy. I found the answer to my first question some twelve entries back from the last entry, it seemed that Caius only wrote in his diary events he deemed of importance or that required further thought, leaving his day to day life for me only to be able to guess at.

September 31st, 1281

As a new school year begins so to do new challenges. Usually the challenges revolve around setting time tables, and helping the students settle in. The worst challenge is normally telling the sorting hat why it can't sing a song about the founders less honourable traits, like Slytherin's regular visits to the brothel, and the rumoured relationship between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff that went a little ways beyond friendly, or worse, my own ancestors fondness for drinking and song, despite his inability to hold either his drink or a tune. However this year's challenges are already shaping up to be somewhat different. There are rumours that Malacore, I spit the name, may be preparing to return to these shores. Twelve years it has been since Antworth Black and I did battle with that foul necromancer, and while his power was too great for us to be able to kill him outright, we were most certain that we wounds we caused him would not be survivable. Had we known better, we would never have allowed him to escape, but rather would have died to assure his death. Alas, the mistakes of the past are not so easily remedied. While the rumours of his return are at the moment just that; rumours, I have still begun contacting old friends so we may be ready to confront him should he return. I have grown stronger since my last battle with him, as has Antworth, and I have no doubt that should Malacore return, we will be able to stop him.

Signed, Professor Caius Gryffindor, Heir of the Gryffindor line, fourth Headmaster of Hogwarts.

While this entry shed some light on the question of who Malacore was, as well as providing some interesting information about the four founders, it still did not tell me what the enemy was, and more importantly, did I need to worry about so turning the page forward I skimmed through the next few entries until I found that seemed to have the information I required.

January 18th, 1282

The rumours of Malacore's return were not, as it turned out, just rumours, he truly has returned, and more powerful than ever. While Antworth and myself were prepared to battle the Malacore we knew, even a more powerful version of Malacore, we were not prepared for, could not prepare for his followers. Never before had he trusted any but the revived dead to serve him, yet when we confronted him he had a small army, over a hundred strong, loyal and ready to die for him. Fortunately, for all their loyalty, they lacked in skill, and the support Antworth and I had brought with us was more than there match. This quickly became evident to Malacore, for once his followers numbers had whittled down to some thirty remaining, he, in a fit of madness, performed a spell the likes of which I had only heard tales of. In a single stroke he killed his followers and used there very life essences to tear open a hole in time and space itself. Into it he screamed at some unknown force "Hear me oh evil one! Give me an army to serve me as long as any goblin, centaur, dragon, merfolk and wand waver still walks this earth! Let they, and all of their magic's burn! Let them be hunted by your soldiers until none remain, and in return you may have my soul!" For a moment after he finished there was naught but silence, as if the very world awaited an answer, and then, without warning from the portal poured wave upon wave of demon! Foul misshapen creatures from the depths of hell itself come through into this realm at the bidding of a mad man. Antworth, I and those who followed us fought as men possessed, but only our most powerful spells could fell the demons, and as soon as one died, two more seem to take its place. Eventually we had no option but retreat. The only bright note to the day was that moments before I fled, I saw a great hand extend from the portal and tear Malacore's soul from his body, apparently choosing to take payment now rather than at the end of his bargain, may his soul burn for all eternity.

Signed, Professor Caius Gryffindor, Heir of the Gryffindor line, fourth Headmaster of Hogwarts.

So that was it, a mad man, bent on conquest or destruction or something, started a course of action that doomed all the sentient magical races to extinction, and the demon he made the deal with didn't even let him stick around to see it happen. When put in those terms, it all seemed so pointless.

I would spend the rest of that day learning to use a wandless digging spell, and burying all those who fell defending Hogwarts. While I knew that no one would ever see the grave, I somehow felt they deserved better than to just lie where they fell for all eternity. After placing the last of the bones in the grave and covering it up, I took a stone that had fallen from the castle, and magically carved an epitaph on it, and left. I would come back another day to see what remained in the castle, but for now I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and I needed to sleep. I refused to sleep at Hogwarts after what had happened there; it seemed to me like it would be disrespectful, like sleeping in a tomb.

A/N- Just quickly, to avoid confusion. Magic does still exist in this world, just not the type of magic Darcy knows of. The basic idea is that the creature Malacore made a deal with, got it's instructions less from Malacore's words, and more from his mind. While Malacore said destroy all magic, the intent behind the words was focused only on the magical species, creatures, plants and items that Malacore knew of. This extended to anything fuelled by the same type of magic as the aforementioned. This means that people like the Sorcerer Supreme, and his enemies can still exist and use magic, it's just a different type of magic coming from a different source.


	8. Chapter 7: Mourning or How to Handle Los

Darcy Lewis - Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or How I got a High Paying Government Job without even Trying

A/N- A few people in the reviews didn't like the story being in first person, so I'm going to continue writing in first person, because screw you, I'll write how I want to write.

Chapter 7: Mourning or How to Handle Losing Everything

It had been three days since I had arrived back home in the United Kingdom. Of those three days, one had been spent exploring, trying to find her home, and her friends. The other two days, however had been spent, curled up in a small ball underneath the blankets of a small bed, in a small motel, in a small town in Scotland. Now, while spending two days crying may not seem like the most constructive of exercises, after finding out that everyone you've ever known or cared about, that everything you've ever loved and held dear, is gone, it suddenly becomes a much more understandable course of action.

Thus, I mourned. I mourned knowing I would never see my friends Hermione or Luna again. I mourned knowing that I was in a world that I knew so very little about. I mourned knowing that whatever the future had once held for me, whatever my destiny had once been, was now nothing more than a faded dream.

My time of mourning however, was not to go uninterrupted, but rather, was to be rudely intruded upon by a loud banging of fist to door, a banging followed by one of the most aggravatingly high pitched voices that I'd ever heard.

"Oi! It's time for payin' up! If you ain't in the lobby in five minutes, I'm calling the cops!" the aggravating voice yelled.

Startled, I tried to jump from the bed, unfortunately, forgetting that I was currently wrapped in the blankets, resulting in my attempt at rising from the bed, ending with me face down on the floor, dignity as broken as my newly shattered glasses.

"I'll...I'll be done in just a minute." I called to the unseen annoyance on the other side of the door, whilst cursing the inconsiderate bastard who had disturbed me and pushing myself up from the crumpled mess of sheets and blankets that had made the trip to the floor with me.

Slowly I made my way to the small bathroom, and splashed some water on my face, hoping it would wake me enough to face the day, all the while dark, and depressing thoughts, floated around my head.

 _"I'm alone, Luna, Hermione, Tonks, everyone is back home, and I'm here, alone. Do they even know I'm gone? Do they miss me? What do I do now? I've got nowhere to go, no one to turn to. I'm out of money, I'm out of ideas. I don't know anywhere else I might find magic users who could help me. What do I do? I'm alone. I'm alone. I'm alone."_

Over and over, the same string of thoughts ran through my mind. Nothing else intruded on my inner monologue, just the same, endlessly repeating thoughts.

So consumed was I by my inner monologue, that to this day I have no real idea of how I made it from the small bathroom in the small motel, back to Hogwarts. I was relatively certain that I had snuck out somehow, as the money to pay for my accommodation was still safely in my pocket. But as I came to, freed for a time from dark, depressing thoughts, I look around to find I was back on the fourth floor of Hogwarts, looking at the three skeletons that had first alerted me to the dark history and tragic scenes I would find higher up. It was in that moment, that I felt something change in me. The depression, the despair was still there, but a spark was lit in me. I may be alone, I may be far from home with no way back, but I'm still alive. I'm alive and just like the people who died here, as long as I'm alive I can fight. I can move forward and build a new life, a new home here.

With a renewed sense of purpose I swore to myself an oath. One I would live by for however long I remained in this new world.

" _I will survive. I will not lie down and give up, but stand and fight for myself and for my future until the bitter end."_

With an oath sworn I committed myself to beginning my new life, but first I needed to close the door on my old one. Too do that, first I needed to bury the ghosts of the past. While those that died in this Hogwarts may not have been my people, not in the strictest sense at least, they were the closest there was in this dimension, and they deserved better than to lie as bones, broken and scattered. They deserved a proper grave that they might rest easily at long last.

It took me another two days, slowly forcing my magic through me into the muddy ground to dig graves. Slowly gathering up all the bones and laying them in the freshly dug earth. When all were gathered, I filled the grave, and found a great stone, fallen from one of the towers. Carefully I carved into it with my magic, a last message, an epitaph for the fallen.

 _Here Lie the Last of the Wizards and Witches_

 _Gone before their time, brought low by the act of a madman._

 _Though they died alone, they fought for us all._

Alongside the stone I placed two smaller ones. Tombstones for the only two wizards whose names I knew.

 _Here Lies_ _Professor Caius Gryffindor, Last Heir of the Gryffindor line, fourth and last Headmaster of Hogwarts._

 _He fought to the last, and died where he stood._

 _His bravery, and his blood given for us all._

 _Here Lies Antworth Black_

 _He did the darkest duty, giving quick mercy to the innocent._

 _May we all be as strong when we must, and_

 _May his next life be easier than this one was._

With that done I laid my hands on the stones exerting my will on my magic, pushing it to obey and form to my desires. Slowly I felt it well up inside of me. Building up and growing stronger, like a stream that becomes a river, and flows to the sea. I held it for as long as I could, until it grew to the point that I felt like I would explode, and then I released it, pushing it into the stones, willing them to become unbreakable. To last and stay as they were until the end of time. A slight flare of light, and a drain on my magic, was the only sign it worked, but I was unwilling to ruin my hard work by testing the stones strength. Happy that I'd done what I could, I turned back to the castle to say my final goodbyes. I knew I couldn't stay here, too many had suffered here, and too many had died. While the Hogwarts I was from was a school, this Hogwarts was a tomb.

 _Thank you Hogwarts, you gave me a home when I had none. While some who lived in you were anything but kind, you always tried to protect us. Goodbye._ And with that, I left, apparating away to London.

Unknown to Darcy, as she left, the castle's wards flared, as if saying goodbye to what was likely the last person who would ever walk in its halls, and far away, Death, still watching, smiled.

Once back in London, I realised a small problem I now faced, once again I was without money, in a place where I knew no one, and had nothing to my name except the clothes on my back. The fact that in this universe I was an American citizen instead of a British one was just icing on the cake. So with a sigh, I set off in search of a café, where I could sit and plan my next move.

Three hours, and six lattes later, my planning session had born some fruit. Firstly, I knew that in this world, my best bet for not just surviving, but thriving was staying where I was known (in the legal sense at least) so that meant I needed to get back to the United States. Secondly, I knew that I couldn't rely on my magical education to make a living, so I needed to catch up on my non magical education. Fortunately, I had always tried to stay caught up with people my age in the non-magical world, so apart from finding out how history differed between worlds, it shouldn't be too difficult to get the equivalent of a high school diploma. Thirdly, I knew that without a degree of some sort, I was unlikely to get a job with any real career prospects, so I needed to get into university. Unfortunately for me, all of things I needed required me getting back to America, which meant money, and there was no way in hell that I was going to spend another six months working for minimum wage to get there, so I need to find an alternative revenue source. The simplest option was to use magic to steal what I needed. I had a bank account set up, so as long as I only stole small amounts at a time, I could deposit them without any suspicion (hopefully).

Plan set I left the table I had been at and made my way towards Kensington. Unless a lot more had changed between dimensions than I thought, it would still be the most affluent neighbourhood in London, and I felt much less guilt about stealing from the rich than from the poor.

 _I guess I get to play Robin Hood, rob from the rich, give to the poor…well to me, but I'm pretty poor so I guess it works… but how to go about robbing them, hm, magic is as usual the best answer, a compulsion to get them to drop their wallet maybe? No, someone else will likely notice the wallet on the ground before I can get it…maybe a Switching Spell…yeah that will work._

Plan set, Darcy sat down on a bench in a small park, and got to work.

* * *

 **A/N - Not overly happy with this chapter. I was trying to get past all the dark, depressing stuff, so I could get back to something a bit more lighthearted. Hopefully a new chapter will be up in a week or so, and should be a bit more fun.**


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